


Why Are There So Many Songs About Rainbows?

by ambersagen



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Djinn wish, F/M, Gen, M/M, Melancholy, Poems, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sad Jaskier | Dandelion, With A Twist, possible unhappy ending, soulmate colors, unless i add more, you yourself are black and white until you meet your soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26577154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambersagen/pseuds/ambersagen
Summary: It was normal, the day that Jaskier first saw the Witcher.By the end it was a day of revelations, in more ways than one.What had only ever been words, or someone else's good fortune, now had new meaning.Jaskier wears a riot of color now, a rainbow.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, also implied, implied
Comments: 8
Kudos: 85





	Why Are There So Many Songs About Rainbows?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I just voted and I am scared to death! SO have some soulmate angst!

It was normal, the day that Jaskier first saw the Witcher.

By the end it was a day of _revelations_ , in more ways than one. If he hadn't been so overwhelmed with **_Blue_** and _**Red**_ and _**Yellow Yellow Golden Yellow** _he would most definitely have been overwhelmed with the sudden inundation of new and shocking desires he had never felt toward a man before (and _blue_ mixed with _oh wow shoulders_ and _red_ was _a strong jaw oh how would that stubble scratch along the skin of my thighs_ ).

What had only ever been words, or someone else's good fortune, now had new meaning.

Warm is _Red_ and cold is _Blue_ , and Jaskier delights in matching each new color on him ( **in** him, his body finally blush with _**red blood**_ and **_blue veins_** and **_brown freckles_** that kiss every corner of his skin in the warm orange light of the sun his soul now _finally_ reflected). He switches out outfits to fit each mood, to every scent, to match the joy of a flower festival and the somberness of a memorial. _Black_ and _white_ are traded for the deepest _umbers_ and shining _teals_.

Jaskier wears a riot of color now, a **_rainbow_**.

But Geralt _(Witcher, White Wolf, friend, **soulmate** )_ sticks to **black** , and with his _**white**_ hair ( _whiter_ than any natural pigment on an old man's brow, _white_ like snow that had died, _white_ like stone carved out of reluctant bone walls), with it all remaining the same in taste and appearance, such as Geralt had worn for possibly a century, Jaskier occasionally found himself questioning whether he had somehow got it wrong (how _could_ he though when the world was a rainbow and **He** himself a part of it?).

He might have believed there had been a mistake, or a fluke of magic had allowed him his soul colors but had shunned the Witcher, had it not been for the eyes. **_Yellow_** and striking each time they caught his gaze, the **_red_** of Geralt's tongue, the **_pink_ **of his nail beds, all telling the same tale.

Soulmates.

He dresses Geralt in the darkest of _greens_ , accented with _gold_ (buttercups, but he would never dare to draw attention to that), and the druid says he looks like a sad silk trader. The druid has no colors, but then again Queen Calanthe was also less than impressed with the Witcher's look, and she was a shining, **_bronze_ **figure (her eyes often drifted more than was proper to a specific Jarl of Skellige who's own colors reflected back that same stunning warmth, but no one dared to point out such a fact to the bloody Queen's face).

Pavetta's screams sound like _**silver**_ , like blades and whispers that cut you to the bone, and after, Geralt is gone.

He is gone for a long time.

Loneliness feels like _**brown**_ , like sloppy piss and shit filled street muck that sticks to Jaskier's soul (and what use is a soulmate if they leave? Why even did destiny reunite them if they were not to remain whole?) and he fills his time with people. Women and men and beds to tumble in and out of, sometimes full color, but mostly _black_ and _white_ and _loveless_. Mostly other lonely humans reaching out desperately for someone to make them feel.

Then he stumbles his way, drunken and blotchy _**purple** faced_ shitfaced drunk back into Geralt's life.

It _hurts._ _Oh gods._

When the house collapses before his very eyes,

when the **color** leaks out of him like water down a drain,

when he is left again _**monochromatic**_ and shaking,

he can’t help but wish he had died too.

That at least in this _one_ thing, he wouldn't be left alone,

and _broken_.

**Yet.**

Geralt is _alive_.

Geralt is alive, and his eyes are still _**golden yellow**_ , hisnails chipped and **_pink_** , the blood smeared across the corner of his jaw still _**red**._

Her eyes are _**violet**_.

Jaskier is....

**black**

and **white**.

Geralt is alive. The Witcher didn’t die.

And yet....

_Jaskier is alone._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm ambersagen.tumblr.com if you want to drop by and talk fic <3


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